


Misguided Judgment

by Seaneta



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Biting, Dubious Consent, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal looking disheveled after a fight, Implied OMC/Will, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, OMC tries to kidnap Will, Restraints, Will kinda likes Hannibal, Will really likes the look, but tries not to show it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-07 01:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4244703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaneta/pseuds/Seaneta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Will follows a suspect into a junkyard, falls into a trap, and Hannibal doesn't necessarily save the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misguided Judgment

**Author's Note:**

> I really need to calm down with my posting lately, geesh. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always really appreciated and motivating:)

It was almost midnight when Will Graham pulled up and stepped out of the rental car. He flashed his badge to the patrolling officers, who had their hands full keeping the crowd contained. It wasn’t odd for the small assembly of folks; they were in the bar district of town on a weekend. Most establishments there only emptied out by one or two in the morning.

The awkward FBI agent maneuvered through the people and under the police tape. Most of the team was already there, taking photos or talking to potential witnesses. Hannibal Lecter was the first to greet Will, getting up from a crouched position near the body. Out of respect, but mainly due to the nosey crowd, a small tent-like tarp was put over the corpse.

“Victim was found in that positioning. Some blood splatter surrounding the area. More found down the sidewalk in that direction,” Hannibal pointed, wearing a latex glove, “but it has yet to be linked.”

Will pressed his lips together. At least one bar fight was featured in the Portland newspaper weekly. It was such a problem, police began to cruise the strip more frequently and the mayor released a public address on the issue just two months ago. Will made sure to familiarize himself with the small Pennsylvania city during the late car ride. He knew any blood would be difficult to analyze, and take a long time with all the possible evidence on the city block alone. The woman was probably laying by the street for hours before anyone realized she wasn’t passed out. Or drunk.

“We know it’s him?” Will pushed his glasses further up on his nose.

It was late, and Jack had called him when he was tossing on his bed in the dark. Not that he minded the excuse to be awake, but the trip was a tedious one and his vision kept getting blurry from fatigue.

“We have an idea. Though there will be more confidence on the matter once you have a look.”

Will smiled politely before crouching down. The smell wasn’t that bad, yet, but the sight was gruesome. Will slipped on gloves from a pocket, but already knew he wouldn’t need them. Just by looking at the woman he could tell it was the work of the _Butcher of Greenview_. She was sexually assaulted and beaten. It wasn’t an act of passion, of ‘ _in_   _the moment_ ’ like most bar fights tended to be. It seemed the man tried to cover up this murder by purposely placing the Jane Doe on the street dedicated to night life, face down.

There was something about the woman that made Will pause.

“We won’t have time to sort through the bogus tips.” Will marched over to Jack, who just finished talking to the chief of police. “We need to keep this under wraps. Who or what. It’s our guy.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Will glanced briefly at the crowd behind Jack, his eyes happening to rest on a man already staring at him. Something felt immediately off. His stomach squirmed, and odd sensation in his head. Will frowned. The sound of Jack’s voice was distant now as he continued to look at the man staring back at him. It was a hint of recognition, he realized. _I’ve seen that guy before_. The feeling was nearly unnoticeable, but it was there. Instincts told him to remember this man. Remember…

“It’s him.” The claim came out a whisper, breathless and disbelieving. Before Will realized, his feet were already running. The man in the crowd dashed away, pushing at others behind him, and Will didn’t have the time to convince the team what was happening. The man was running away; _getting away_. He was guilty of something. Most likely, he saw what Will possessed in his eyes; verification.

Will scurried through the crowd as Jack shouted after him. He didn’t feel bad or pity shoving rowdy bar patrons out of his way. Will chased the man down the street, rounding a corner through a narrow alleyway. The man jumped and climbed over a tall, chain-link fence and Will did the same with just as much vigor. Vaguely, he heard footsteps from behind, they were too far away. Will couldn’t take the risk of waiting for the team and lose the felon.

Blood pumping, heart pounding, Will ran down the forsaken streets, just a few yards away from the fleeing man. Between each breath, Will analyzed what he saw of the man and tried to burn the information into his head. Short blond hair, military cut. At least six feet tall, wide chest, definitely in good shape. Black, dark pants. Sneakers. Dark jacket. Probably makes a decent to high income. Will couldn’t see his face, but he tried to recall what he could from the crowd earlier. Will also wouldn’t be able to subdue the man by overpowering him; that would be a joke. But he had his temporary gun strapped to his waist. He had a butterfly knife tucked away; it always came in handy when walking the dogs at night, the clumsy animals always getting caught in bushes or dragging thorns in their fur.

“Stop running!” He shouted. “Give yourself up!”

If anything, the man ran even faster and Will kicked himself for it. He headed straight for a city dump, one where Will could already see high mountains of trash and smell the rancid odor of sludge and grime. It didn’t discourage his determination. The man was going to be apprehended. Out of breath, Will pulled out the gun and tried to aim, but it was too reckless. He would have to stop running to get a good shot, and he couldn’t risk him gaining more distance and missing the aim.

A frustrated growl rumbled in his throat.

Will ran into the old garbage heap, glancing at the sign along the wooden fence that said, _Todd Kilmer - Junkman_. Maybe the man owned this property. Maybe the Greenview Butcher _was_ Todd Kilmer. He seemed to know his way around. Or, at least, was smart enough to think this place would make a haven. There were piles of foul-smelling waste surrounding Will. He finally stopped, losing sight of the man and cocked the gun. It was difficult to catch his breath and his body trembled with adrenaline. The man could be anywhere. And with the cloudy skies, it made it even more difficult to see in the darkness.

Something rustled to his left and he whipped around, gun pointed.

“She was pregnant.” Will called, “That was why you left her along the streets. Not like your usual victims.”

He didn’t have to look inside this killer’s mind to understand. All the evidence he needed was back behind police tape.

Another noise. This time Will followed it. He rounded the wide corner of a mountainous mound, and felt the tripwire before he noticed it. Looking up, he was grateful not to feel the weight collapsing on him.

**\- - -**

Will scrunched up his face when the man hit him.

Although he could anticipate every strike, he couldn’t shield himself. His wrists were tied behind a chair, arms bent awkwardly. His ankles tied to the chair’s front supports with thick rope as well. When he woke earlier, Will thought everything had just been an odd dream. The notion was corrected after the first blow, and smell of filth on his clothes. His entire body ached from the avalanche. Will’s head rolled. He groaned. The gun was missing and the man had him at his disposal.

Will experienced pretty bad situations before, but this was really bad.

“Hey. You awake yet?” A slap and suddenly Will found himself staring at a wall. He gasped from the sting, his cheek growing hot from pain. His glasses were long gone, probably laying somewhere in the dump. Hopefully Jack or Hannibal or Alana would find it; have some sort of clue as to where he was.

His eyes scanned the cramped area while he could. From what he craned his neck to see, it was a trailer used as some sort of office. The carpet and walls looked like they were decorated in the 70’s. Windows were covered with dusty blinds, the skinny door locked with, what Will took to be an added precaution, a chair ledged under the handle. It looked to be a completely normal, sleazy junkyard headquarters. Except the fact it currently housed a psychotic killer.

Getting caught is the worse thing to happen. Besides getting killed. It had been a stupid mistake, but who the hell looked for a damn tripwire in a junkyard? At night? While chasing a felon?

“Asshole.” Another hit, this time a heavy punch to Will’s gut. He wheezed, his diagram spasming. His fingers clenched into the rope. When did the man take his jacket and shoes? Was it a problem he only realized that now? _Probably_.

“You know about my usual victims?” Todd Kilmer bent down to see Will’s eyes, using a hand to twist his face toward his. “Huh? Well, you’re going to join the list. Agent.”

“Assaulting a federal agent will-”

“Assaulting a federal- _shut up_. You know I don’t assault.” Another hit. The man backed away and began to pace the room, searching for something with violent hands. File cabinets flung off their wheels, papers flew from a desk, a few cheap trinkets fell from a shelf. Will didn’t want to know what kind of instrument of Kilmer was going to use on him. Instead, he decided to get creative. The butterfly knife was still in his jeans --he could feel it sticking out from a back pocket and digging into his skin. Watching the man mutter under his breath and occasionally peer through window blinds, Will twisted his wrists and managed to grab the knife on the fourth try. He waited until something else fell, or made a sound, before flicking the blade open. Now, came the difficult part; cutting without the Butcher noticing.

“Christ-” Todd Kilmer, as noted by the worn, fallen nameplate on the desk, came back so quickly Will thought he knew his secret. But Kilmer had a weapon of his own, a shining pistol, and he pressed it against Will’s forehead. “You won’t scream. You won’t make a sound.”

The cold metal didn’t discourage Will from cutting the restraints, but he did slice through the rope much slower. He stared up at the man, noting the sweat above his upper lip and the uneasy way his eyes inspected his body. Will knew his face now, most likely his name, his place of work. He’d kill Will unless the team found the trailer or he managed to free his hands and knock the man out. Both options depended on a lot of luck.

Will nodded, and the end of the gun left his forehead but stayed pointed at his face.

“Okay. I have to see what I’m working with here.”

Will’s hands froze when the killer undid the first button. He looked back up at the man through his bangs, watching in a twist of fear and confusion as he unbuttoned a few more. Will knew what the Butcher did to his victims, but Will didn’t match the victim profile. He went after women between ages 25 and 40 with short brown hair and blue eyes. There was a general consensus it was an issue with unrequited love of a mother that led to this man doing what he did. Will didn’t think he was lucky enough to be an exception.

He continued to cut through the bonds against his wrists, or tried. It was difficult to exert the force necessary without drawing attention to his backside. And when the man flicked the fourth button along the plaid shirt, his hands stopped altogether. He swallowed, restraining the urge to tremble, his sight focused on the gun in the muted lighting.

“You don’t need-”

“Shh. I’m working.” Todd Kilmer loomed, his breathing the loudest thing in the trailer. Will’s chest felt heavy. It was hard to breathe. _I need to cut these ropes_.

A loud crash against the door brought everything to an abrupt stop. Both men looked, bewildered, as the trailer door bent from another strong hit. The impact actually shook the floor. The chair, ledged against the handle, shook. “What the hell?”

The Butcher dashed across the small space, peeking through a set of blinds. “It’s just one fucking lunatic.” He proclaimed more to himself than to a hopeful Will. “ _Ha-_ He’s not getting in. And if he does, I’ll shoot him.”

Will went back to enthusiastically slashing through the bonds. He had no idea how close he was to breaking the knot, but each tug with his wrists didn’t budge it. Another powerful collision into the door made Will almost drop the knife. _Was it Jack? Why wasn’t he saying anything? Could Crawford make a crack in a door like that? He was a pretty big guy, but-_

“You come in here and I’ll blow your brains out!” The man shouted, cocking his gun at the door. Another wallop against the trailer's barrier. The chair again the door fell to the side. This was Todd Kilmer’s last night alive, or as a free man. Either he’d be caught or forever on the run. This was his final match, and he seemed livid with that realization.

“I’m in here-!”

“Shut up!” The man rounded back, spit flying. He pointed the pistol his captive, and fired a shot.

Will shouted just as the door finally gave way. Kilmer spun on his heel so quickly a joint cracked. Before he had time to use his gun again, Hannibal Lecter was already lunging for him with ferocious intent. He knocked the gun away, it falling with a slide and skidding under an old bookshelf. Will’s chest went crazy with breaths, his eyes catching the bullet hole in the wall behind him just inches right to where his head was. Will put the focus back on the fight ensuing in front of him, watching in disbelief as Hannibal hit the man hard enough to leave blood on his knuckles. The blade in his hands sat as still as stone as he tried to comprehend the composed doctor honing his box-fighting mastery.

Will knew Dr. Lecter had some combat experience; he had defended himself against Tobias in his own office. It was another thing to actually see his psychiatrist in action. Will recoiled, giving a clipped shout when a few drops of blood sprinkled him, the doctor landing a strong hit to the Todd’s mouth. It was crazy to think just fifteen, twenty minutes ago this had just been another late night at a crime scene. Now Hannibal was fighting for his life as Will was forced on the sidelines, trying to scoot the chair away when he could.

“Holy shit!-”

Hannibal pinned the man against the wall across from Will, slamming him so roughly the entire trailer wobbled. The doctor growled something fierce before jerking his arm somewhere against the man’s abdomen. It was difficult to tell what happened, but suddenly Kilmer fell to the floor with limp legs.

Will slumped. Hannibal had just taken down not only a man with a gun, but who possessed a much more physical presence with near body-building muscles. Hannibal's suit was ruined, rumpled, untidy and probably won't ever be worn again. Will felt something twitched down below. He bit the inside of his mouth hard enough to draw blood to control the scandalous thought, before attempting to even his shallow breaths. 

“…Christ. Hannibal.”

But Hannibal didn’t look at Will, or even acknowledge his existence. Instead, he squatted in front of the man -Will wasn’t sure if he was alive- for half a minute or two, then stood and picked up Kilmer’s legs. Will openly stared as Hannibal dragged the lifeless man across the termite-infested carpet and behind the desk. Will didn’t feel like asking. He was just immensely grateful the near-impossible had happened. His nerves finally began to settle.

“Thank you. Hannibal.” He breathed. “I chased him into the junkyard, but he must have anticipated someone would eventually snoop around. There was a trap. He probably has more out there.”

Hannibal continued to ignore Will, his lips set in a firm line as he worked. He adjusted the body until satisfied, then slipped out a handkerchief from his crumpled suit. He walked back over to the door and checked the outside.

“Hannibal-” A single finger came up, motioning for Will’s silence. It was the first time he even recognized him, and Will watched as he leaned outside a little more. Hannibal glanced in both directions before closing the door and flipping the lock switch. Small dots of blood covered his cheek, his hair completely tousled, shirt untucked. Hannibal turned around then, finally meeting Will’s gaze.

“I- I was cutting the rope on my wrists. I was close, I think.” Will shifted his arms, refusing to show his unease. “Another few minutes and-”

“Do you have any idea how stupid that was?” 

Will blinked. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again to blurt the only thing that came to mind; “What?”

He never witnessed Hannibal like this, except maybe in daydreams he refused to acknowledge. Hannibal stood a few steps away, but the anger radiated off him like an overheated furnace, scorching Will’s face and threatening to bring about another round of anxiety. The usually collected doctor was not composed. He was being purposely unkind, not calm. Menacing. It sent a primitive shock down Will’s spine. When Hannibal stepped closer, he jolted in the chair so roughly it rocked and nearly fell. He towered in front of Will, uncomfortably close and Will flushed when the doctor’s crotch was in his line of sight. To avoid the awkward positioning, Will looked up to see what Hannibal was doing. He peered behind Will, looking at the restraints.

“I was close to getting out-” Will jerked his wrists, as though to prove how practically free he was. Hannibal’s features hardened, though Will couldn’t bend his head that far up to see. The rope was barely cut _halfway_ , and he could see abrasions from earlier struggles. Hannibal grabbed the knife from Will’s fingers, and when Will expected his help to hack through the rest of the bonds, the exact opposite happened.

“Whoa, whoa-, _what are you doing_?”

Hannibal tied the rope even more snug around his skin.

“Hannibal!” Will thrashed against the chair. “You finding me is great, but this-”

“Finding you?” The man stepped back, lips pursed. “I did much more than that.” He leaned toward to wipe some blood off Will’s cheek with a harsh swab. “Do you realize the trouble you caused? The trouble you almost brought about?”

“I saw him in the crowd.” Will snapped back. “I didn’t think I had the damn time to tell everyone ‘ _hey, oh look, everybody, he’s getting away_ ’, and then let him _get away_.”

It was bizarre to argue like this with Hannibal, tied to a chair with his shirt half-removed in a dingy trailer with a dying -or dead- man off to the side somewhere. Will trusted the doctor, always had, but he couldn’t deny the sweat along the nape of his neck. He was nervous. Angry. Just how bold did Hannibal feel to leave him tied up just to lecture? Will wasn’t some green agent in a classroom. And he caught the killer. Or, well, somewhat did.

“You were careless. _Reckless_. You had horrible regard for your own safety.” Will could tell Hannibal wanted to shout. He was struggling to keep his voice even. “You can see into the minds of killers. Enlighten me, Will. Tell me just what that man was going to do to you in that chair.”

Will spoke through his teeth with forced restraint. “I was cutting through the rope. I would have gotten out-”

“Then what?” Hannibal lashed out. “You hoped he would allow you to undo the knots around each ankle?”

“Let me out of this chair!”

“No.”

Will seethed, his glare vicious and chest expanding in anger. He felt his own fury matching Hannibal’s, threatening to burn a hole in the man’s chest.

Will was exposed, beautiful. Strands of hair laid unruly against his forehead, cheeks flushed, specks of Todd Kilmer’s blood still rested on his chin, neck, collarbone. His shirt was tousled, jeans strained against muscle and bonds. Will was frazzled, confused. Helpless. His. No one could disrupt the foundation Hannibal carefully crafted with this man. No one could upset this relationship, or touch Will. No mind games, no other murderers. Except himself. If Will would have been tainted by another, possessed new scars, he wouldn’t know what he would have done. Will was stupid. He almost ruined everything.

Hannibal bent down, crouching on his heels. “That man was going to kill you, Will. But he was going to sexually assault you first.” He gestured to the shirt buttons with the knife between his fingers. “He was going to beat you.” Hannibal’s stare was absolute. Chilling. The knife stayed pointed along the rough fabric. Will swallowed, pushing down a lump that wouldn’t move.

“Where…where’s the rest of the team, Dr. Lecter?”

He nodded, softly, as though expecting the change of topic. “I purposely misled them. I need to teach you a lesson, Will. Of what you almost took away from me tonight. I need to do this in case you plan to do something so exceedingly careless again.” And with that, Hannibal flicked the fifth button on the shirt. With Will’s own knife.

Will felt his mind cracking. The sound of the small plastic circle hitting the carpet broke through his astonishment. “H-Hannibal, stop!”

He cut another off Will’s shirt. And another, without breaking his gaze. Will’s heart jumped. He always had a fondness for the doctor. Possessed a foreign captivation and adoration of his tastes. They worked well together and Will always enjoyed their dinners. Lately, Will had even caught himself in the occasional fantasy with the doctor; most if not all of them having the retired surgeon dominating the shit out of him in the office, or in the academy classroom. Horrible and never considering himself gay before meeting Lecter, it wasn’t right to feel a tingle in his stomach from what was happening. Will was petrified of the intimidation and how easily Hannibal used it to his advantage, seeing this side he had only fantasized about. If he was capable of something like this, what else did the man hide behind closed doors? If he hid this side of himself so well, maybe it wasn’t out of the realm to consider Hannibal having a taste for the same team too?

As he continued to unbutton Will’s shirt, he began to actually suspect it was truth.

“Kilmer would have done this slowly,” Hannibal studied Will’s uneasy expression. “He would have wanted to savor your panic.”

“Hannibal, I get it-” Cold air met Will’s chest when Hannibal opened his shirt. He gasped. Will hadn’t worn an undershirt when dressing himself earlier; he didn’t think this night would involve getting captured, much less stripped. “Anyone could come in here-”

Hannibal extended a finger and placed it against Will‘s lips. “He would press the gun to your lips, silencing you one more time. He would give you one last warning. Would you agree? Did he give his other victims one final warning?”

Will’s chest spasmed as he stared into the dark abyss of Hannibal’s eyes. His mind soared, racing with conflicting, confusing thoughts. What was wrong with him? He nodded against Hannibal’s finger.

“He would take off your jeans next, Will.”

“Han-” Will knew he couldn’t speak, but the motion of Hannibal’s hands also made his mind stop short. Hannibal worked at the trousers Will wore, tugging them down his ass and thighs. Will didn’t understand. Just how far would his colleague take this game of pretend to teach him something? Surely not- _no way_. But strong hands pulled at his pants, making them bunch at his tied ankles.

“He would make a comment on your undergarments.” Hannibal wrapped his large hands upon Will’s thighs, holding them in his grip as he looked up at Will’s wide eyes. The FBI agent didn’t have to flick a glance down at his lap, he knew his cock had begun to twitch. “He would say something taunting, make you think you wanted this to happen.”

Will shook his head, looking away. Would Butcher say something like that, or _Hannibal_? He shivered when he felt the tips of fingers grip his boxers and yank them down. This wasn’t just a cruel lesson. It wasn’t a scare tactic. A heat tingled at the base of Will’s core, swirling and branching out. His boxers stayed just below his bent knees. He clenched his knees together as tightly as possible, his body trembled. He was humiliated. Hannibal had prodded inside his head, but this was much worse.

Warm hands massaged Will’s thighs, faintly touching the curled hairs between his hip bones. Will whimpered.

“The killer would touch you here, because he would more want reactions from you, Will.”

“Hannibal, please.” He breathed, voice shaking, “You don’t have to do this.”

The hands stopped. Hannibal looked at him with a fleeting grimace before standing up. Will watched him, catching his breath, as Hannibal shrugged off his jacket and folded it nicely over the desk. He did the same with the waistcoat and took his time walking back, rolling up his sleeves. “What did the Butcher do to his victims, Will? Before taking them?”

Will shivered, never hearing him sound so venomous before. “He’d torture them.”

“No. Think. What did he do?”

“He’d…he’d play a game with them. Make them feel as though they deserved punishment.”

“You’re not going to speak, Will.” Hannibal repeated the rule. “You’re not going to say one word because Kilmer would think you’re talking too much. But if you would speak, what would he do?” There was a pause, and Hannibal titled his head. “Go ahead.”

“He…would kill me.”

“He would kill you.” Hannibal crouched down yet again, gripping Will’s pale knees. “Do you think I would kill you, Will?”

Honestly, right now, he couldn’t be sure. “Um-” Hannibal gripped Will’s hardening length, smearing pre-come and spreading the little liquid along Will’s tip. Will thrashed, violently, hitting the chair’s back with a resounding crack as Hannibal slowly worked him up and down.

“Kilmer would have done this, because he would see how hard you were.”

Will grunted, biting his lower lip, hair beginning to stick to his forehead. He looked to the side, ashamed, but the blood beginning to pool under the desk made him even more flustered. He closed his eyes, face contorting with mixed emotions.

“No?”

“No. I…I wouldn’t be hard for him.” Will admitted.

“But you are for me.”

Silence, except for Will’s panting.

“Good.”

Will, taken back, looked at Hannibal. This wasn’t just a highly bizarre form of therapy. It was a confirmation of Dr. Lecter’s feelings. His supposed stupidness was a little more understandable now, but just a little. But -fuck-, Will never imagined he would find out like this. With someone like Hannibal Lecter, was there really any normal scenario that Will could have pictured happening?

Hannibal stood, placing a steady hand on Will’s bare shoulder while his other hand continued to jerk him off. Will gasped from the growing sensation of the tortuously slow pace Hannibal was going, his legs trembling. He closed his eyes, unable to meet Hannibal’s gaze any longer, and pressed his forehead into the man’s abdomen. He breathed in a heavy woodsy cologne, and he let it consume him to try to ground himself from what Hannibal was doing below. Almost immediately, Hannibal used his free hand to cup the back of Will’s head, finding a gentle grip through his hair.

“He would do this slowly, closely, watching you for the reactions.” Hannibal looked at Will, feeling his hot breath against his navel. “It’s always about the reactions, Will.”

“Ha….hah-”

“He would see you like this, and wonder why he waited so long.”

“Hann-”

“Shhh,” Hannibal gripped Will’s cock tighter, picking up a faster rhythm. Will’s hips twitched and for the first time, he moaned softly in response. _Oh god-_ Hannibal had just possibly murdered someone and now his hand was wrapped around his cock.

Hannibal used his hand to pry the seated man’s head away from him but before he could whine from the distance, and he swiftly sat on Will’s lap. He was careful with Will’s aroused member as he carefully straddled him, polished Oxfords on each side of the chair. It groaned with both of their weight, but Hannibal knew it was sturdy enough to hold.

Will found himself staring at Hannibal’s smooth skin and ruffled hair when he felt his lips becoming submerged with Hannibal’s own. Will didn’t move, didn’t feel anything except more heat which was sprinkled with a dissolving anxiety. Hannibal continued to caress the hard flesh between Will’s legs and Will moaned into the doctor’s mouth.

Encouraged, Hannibal bent down to lick the other man’s chest, tongue leaving a line as it trailed his flesh. Will’s body was perfect, flawless with smooth skin and subtle muscles he always hid under itchy plaid. Hannibal could spend days tracing patterns on Will’s skin with his tongue, his teeth, or maybe a kitchen’s blade. A hand drifted from length between Will’s legs to grasp at his shirt sleeves. He tried to tug off the shirt, a mild annoyance flicked across his face when it realized it got caught on the chair and restraints. Temporary distracted, Hannibal pulled his tongue away, absent-mindedly wiping away some saliva on his chin as he eyed the problem.

He tugged a bit more roughly, ripping the seams of the shirt to expose more of Will’s arms.

“He-” Will panted, “He would have used the knife to slice through…the shirt.”

Hannibal shot the other man a look before giving one robust jerk to the fabric, and it ripped enough to expose Will’s shoulders and most his pale arms. His hands traveled up and down the length of Will’s arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He hitched his thighs up, gently, teasingly touching Will’s stiff cock.

But while Hannibal took his time with controlled motions and restrained emotion, Will kissed him violently, leaning as far forward as he could go, shoving his lips against Hannibal’s. He bit, viciously, at the man’s lips. Although he appreciated the restraints -they kept him safe, guarded, gave him limits- he had an irresistible urge to grab his doctor by the hair. He wanted to shove Hannibal back, slam him like he slammed Kilmer against the wall. The urge to make Hannibal even more disheveled became a priority.

Will offered Hannibal a satisfied smirk, and he tugged on his smooth lower lip with his teeth. He nibbled on it, like a dog, before doing the only thing he could do tied in the ropes and he crushed their hips together. Hannibal huffed, slamming Will back against the chair, and he looked at Will’s eyes, inviting him to join him in the depths of depravity.

Will bit Hannibal’s neck, not bothering to disguise it as something sweet or caring. He bit, chewing, grinding the flesh between his teeth until he tasted blood. This was about control. It always was. He let Hannibal see him with his lip cut from Hannibal’s teeth, Hannibal’s own blood covering bits of his mouth. Will watched as the man’s eyes clouded and his lips parted. Hannibal’s demeanor was changing, it was less controlled, and his hips twitched against Will’s.

Hannibal buried his face in Will’s neck. He bit at the delicate flesh found there, nipping at the skin and savoring the taste of sweat and the intimate smell of Will’s natural scent. He bit down harder, succumbing to his more basic instincts, and listened as Will took a sharp, shaky breath. Biting even harder, he was rewarded with a strangled grunt, and Hannibal pulled away to see the raw, red teeth marks. He licked his lips, tasting blood, and glanced at the other man. Will’s pupils were blown wide, his cheeks and chest flushed.

Will liked what he did, Hannibal noted with satisfaction and curiosity.

Experimentally, Hannibal nibbled at Will’s collarbone, delicate before clamping his jaw on the thin bit of flesh. Will gritted his teeth, trying to muffle another groan- it was filled with pain, but there was an undying delicious edge of pleasure to it.

“S-stop biting me-” Will grimaced. Hannibal bit into Will’s neck again, even harder than he had before. Drawing blood, Will hissed in a stinging pain. Hannibal’s eyes were lit, drawing away, feeling his heart flutter. He enjoyed the foreign sensation. Will always brought them about.

Hannibal circled Will’s nipples, pinching them. Will bit his lip, groaning, and responded by getting harder. Hannibal leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Will’s, their noses bumping each other’s as his hands traveled, delicately, over Will’s shoulders, collarbone, neck and mouth. He ran his fingers everywhere, his dark eyes following wherever he touched because everything he touched, Will’s body tingled.

Will sucked one of Hannibal’s fingers into his mouth, licking the digit from root to tip. Hannibal’s eyes fluttered and he drew a sharp breath. Will pressed a kiss to the man’s palm, but had to pull away when he felt a hand caress the slightly curled hairs between his legs. It stirred something latent in Will that he thought would sleep forever.

His hand moved to cup Will’s awakening arousal. The warmth held Will with confidence and a familiarly belonging only to intimate lovers. When it began to move up and down, Will choked on a moan that had no where to go. Hannibal stopped as soon as he started, and Will thought it was all over, trying to suppress any feelings inside him that felt like disappointment.Hannibal ran the flat of his palm over the head of Will’s cock and watched as the other man's eyes flutter closed for just a moment. Will bit his bottom lip as he stared back at Hannibal, breaths heavy.

Hannibal leaned in for another captivating kiss. As soon as his mouth touched Will’s lips, it was an explosion of pleasure hit Will’s senses and he titled his chin toward Hannibal, moaning into his mouth. Hannibal reached down with his free hand, undoing his own pants to work his hard member. Watching, feeling, _tasting_ Will made him impossibly hot, more aroused than he had ever felt in such a short amount of time.

Will’s cock filled Hannibal’s palm. It responded to the faintest of touches with humiliating enthusiasm.

“P-please-” Will had no idea what he was begging for. He bucked helplessly, jerking his hips as if to try to escape the sensations, but his erection bobbed against the assaulting hand, leaving a glistening smear of precome in Hannibal’s fingers. Shudders rippled down Will’s body like waves in a storm. His arms ached where they pinioned behind his shaking body. Will felt like sobbing from the euphoria. Had it really been so long?

The touches continued, grazing over the swollen head of his cock and teasing the slit until more precome leaked from it. Traveling downwards, Hannibal stroked the base of his erection, chafed and sensitive as he stroked himself. He caressed the flesh even as Will’s eyes rolled back in his head, forgetting everything but the pleasure. He wrapped his fingers skillfully around the shaft, to the tip, then down again to Will’s dark curled hair. Gliding and stroking, massaging.

Will’s breathing hastened and his hips jutted toward into Hannibal’s rhythm. Will wanted to touch Hannibal, to mess up his hair even more, make a few wrinkles in his shirt he couldn’t iron out. See what was underneath. Will moaned, thoughts dissolving, as the grip around his shaft tightened.

Will couldn’t focus his eyes on anything. His pupils dilated with desire until his irises were consumed entirely by black. He cried out, forgetting any sense of dignity he tried to maintain, if he had any left. He arched his back in the chair, his body tensing as the most exquisite release he ever experienced washed over him. Hannibal brought him to a height of pleasure he didn’t know was possible, and a finger continued to drag along the underside of his shaft. He pressed his face into Hannibal’s shoulder, the doctor’s name slipping from his tongue.

Hannibal smiled as he watched Will climax, working him a few moments longer before lifting his hand from the drained organ. “Say my name again, Will,” he breathed, finding himself on the verge of his own climax.

Will lifted himself from the other man’ s chest, still panting, but he spoke the man’s name, unable to hide the shudder in his voice. “Hannibal.”

Hannibal growled as he leaned in for another kiss, almost desperate and feverish. He pumped his erection as he kissed Will deeply, coming as soon as their mouths touched. The raw emotion Hannibal held in his eyes made Will nearly falter in surprise.

For minutes they sat together, coming off their pleasure-induced highs. Will was only still seated in the chair because of the restraints, and Hannibal leaned on the smaller man’s chest for support.

“That was…a little…unorthodox, Hannibal. For you.”

“It was to teach you a lesson, Will. Tell me what you learned.”

“Don’t…don’t be careless.”

“Don’t be careless.” Hannibal repeated. He craned an arm up, heavy and tired, but held the back of Will’s head, fingers tangling themselves in hair.

**Author's Note:**

> "I have the weirdest boner right now," thought the OMC, slowly dying of blood loss.


End file.
